


among a million faded stars

by avyssoseleison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Hunter Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Self-Reassurance Through Platonic Groping, Protective Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avyssoseleison/pseuds/avyssoseleison
Summary: With the adrenaline of their last hunt still not quite worn off, Castiel grapples with his newly-human limitations and long-standing inclinations.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 98





	among a million faded stars

**Author's Note:**

> I'm (surprisingly) not one for sentimentalities, so: Good to be back (for now)! 2020 is strange, the end of SPN was even stranger, let's all just enjoy the ride.
> 
> This story is based on a prompt by @fanfic-corner (tumblr) who asked for a hurt/comfort destiel fic.

“You feeling any better, Cas?” Dean asked into the dimness of the room, only illuminated by the hall lights behind him. From his vantage point, he could only vaguely make out the shape of Castiel on top of his comforter, spread out like a starfish and eerily still. The weird position probably would have made Dean laugh any other day, but he didn’t feel like laughing in that moment – the images of the last hunt were still burned too freshly in his mind. Of himself being struck down by one of the harpies and almost torn from limb to limb, had Castiel not arrived in the nick of time, deftly striking them down with the wrath of God, and looking so fucking lost and shell-shocked right after.

Though, ‘wrath of God’ was probably the wrong phrasing, seeing as Castiel had completely lost his grace not so long ago, and was just as human, even if a bit more awkward, as the rest of them. 

Dean guessed that was also the reason for his dramatic position, and his withdrawal from all of them once they had finished the hunt. Down in the dirt with them all, it must have sucked to have had such close calls, whereas before, he could have smote them with so much as a glance.

“Go away, Dean,” Castiel said, and his deadpan delivery actually made Dean laugh.

“Alright, princess, but only if you tell me what’s wrong.”

Dean could see Castiel turning his face towards him, the light from the hallway briefly catching in his eyes. 

“Because you always tell me what’s wrong whenever you are suffering.”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Dean grumbled, feeling himself flush for some inexplicable reason. “Have it your way. I actually just came here to ask you if you wanted to come for dinner, but I’m guessing that Mr. Mopey Pants probably wants to eat about as much as he wants to talk.”

“That’s correct, Dean,” Castiel confirmed.

“Jesus,” Dean sighed to himself, regretting all of his life choices (as usually). Instead of doing the sensible thing and just walking away to let Castiel sulk by himself, he stepped into Castiel’s room and shut the door behind himself, extinguishing almost all of the outside light. Without bothering to turn on the ceiling light in return, he drew closer to the bed, stumbling in the darkness. Although he could not see with his eyes unadjusted to the lack of light, he knew the layout of the room well enough not to bump into anything – besides, all he had to do was follow the always palpable existence of another human being in the room. Without so much as hitting his foot, his knees sank into the soft give of the mattress.

He wanted to sit down at the edge of the bed and have a calm and collected conversation with his best friend, as any normal person would do. What he wound up doing instead was not to stop there, for whatever reason: once his knees hit the bed, he suddenly found himself climbing on top of it, and since Castiel was all spread out on it, there was nowhere for Dean to go but on top of _him_ . Not _on top_ -on top of him, of course – he did not press his body up against his, like some sexual fiend. No, all he did was try to lie down next to Castiel, and lied down on his arm and part of his thigh instead, though he tried to minimize the contact. However, he was apparently the only one interested in doing so because, despite their awkward positioning, Castiel made no move to withdraw from him and instead stayed rooted where he was, all spread out. 

As Dean adjusted his body, he thought he heard Castiel’s breath catch in the darkness, just so. For his own sanity, he decided to discard it.

“Cas, listen,” Dean began, “I know I’m not exactly the poster child for talking out your issues, but, uhm, I’m trying to do better. And encourage myself and other people to say when they got a problem. Be more open and all that. It’s a bit weird at first, I get it, but it does help.” That flush again, heating his skin. “Me, at least. It makes me feel better. Less alone, I guess. Less responsible for,” he made a throwaway gesture that could only be heard in the room, not seen, “everything, I guess.”

Castiel remained silent for a while, probaby mulling over Dean’s words. Then, he made a quiet sound of assent. “You do,” he agreed evenly, “feel responsible for everything.”

Dean could not help but groan. “Yeah, thanks, man. That wasn’t my point, though.”

“Yes,” Castiel said easily, “your point was that I should talk about whatever bothers me.”

Dean felt like rolling his eyes again. “If you got it, spare me your jokes.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, his arm twitching under Dean’s weight. He sounded surprised that Dean had gotten that his flat assessment had been an attempt at a joke and maybe a deflection – as if Dean hadn’t known him long enough to be able to recognize his weird sense of humor that others often misunderstood as him being socially awkward.

“Yeah,” Dean huffed out, but there was no heat behind it. Just feeling Castiel’s arm and thigh under him was enough to keep him calm and somewhat endeared to the former angel, strangely enough. Maybe he needed to go out more.

“But,” Castiel began, pausing for yet another moment before commencing again, “but what if whatever bothers me is lying on top of me and trying to get me to talk about what bothers me?”

It took Dean a minute before he got what Castiel was driving at with his weird wording, and then he felt his body stiffening up. “You calling me a bother?” 

Right, he hadn’t come there to hear that kind of crap. If Cas wanted to be alone, then so be it.

Just as inelegantly as he had climbed onto the bed, he attempted to roll off of it. But before he could quite get up and leave the moody angel behind, there were hands grappling at his shoulder and hips, pulling him right back.

Dean grunted as he fell back against Castiel, who only tightened his grip to keep Dean in a weird kind of embrace. 

Suddenly finding himself winded, Dean could do nothing but stay where he was, Castiel’s arms around his chest and his face burrowed in his neck.

 _Cas smells so good,_ Dean thought in a moment of stupidity, incapable of not enjoying their unexpected proximity, Castiel’s hands and breath on his body. He wished they could stay like that forever, close and under cover of darkness, nothing but the two of them.

 _“Dean,”_ Castiel sighed, the warmth of the spoken name not just in Dean’s heart but also on his skin. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to see you like that?”

Dean, dumbly drunk as he was on Castiel, was far from understanding whatever Castiel was hinting at. “Wha–?”

“See you almost ripped asunder from those harpies, crying out and yelling my name–,” Castiel faltered, swallowing. 

Dean didn’t even remember calling out for Castiel specifically. He thought all he had done was scream and curse and hoping for either Cas or Sam to come and help him.

“And had they succeeded, there would have been nothing I could’ve done for you. I could not have healed you, put your body back together the way it belongs. The way it is right now.” 

With any other guy and under any other circumstances, the way one of Castiel’s hands suddenly roamed his body while the other held Dean tightly against his own body probably would have felt like someone trying to cop a feel against Dean’s will. Especially since Castiel did not exactly hold back, but panted as though holding back a sob while he touched any part of Dean’s body he could reach. As it was, Dean knew it wasn’t Cas’ intention to molest him or make him uncomfortable: it was self-reassurance, pure and simple. Something Dean understood instinctively, had needed more than enough times himself. Which was why he didn’t shy away or tell Castiel to stop. No, instead, he relaxed himself into his hold, and nuzzled back against his head.

“This what all of this is about, Cas?” Dean asked in a hoarse whisper. “You feel bad about not being able to mojo it all better anymore?” He could have probably been more precise in his words by asking if he felt bad about not being an angel anymore, but as much would have been understood; he did not mean to hurt Castiel any more than he already was hurting.

“I feel bad about seeing you like that,” Castiel deflected. Then, “I was scared when seeing you like that. Scared of losing you. And of being helpless to prevent it.”

There was a sudden lump in Dean’s throat. “You didn’t lose me, though. And you did prevent it.”

“Had I arrived even one moment later, Dean,” Castiel objected, pain thickening his voice, “then you would’ve lost an arm or two, or even your life. And I could not have healed you, restored your body. You might’ve _died_ , Dean, and there would’ve been nothing I–”

That was about as far as he got because with a press of his lips, Dean cut him right off. Despite the shocked little noise that Castiel let out, he kissed back right away, his hand returning to angle Dean’s head to kiss him deeper, taste him wholly. 

It was Dean’s turn to be surprised when he felt Castiel’s tongue and lips immediately claim him that way, without any hesitation.

By the time they broke apart, both panting and staring at each other in the dimness, Dean had ended up with his back on the bed, Castiel hovering over him. 

“Don’t–,” Dean pressed out through heavy breaths, “don’t be a child, Cas. You didn’t come late – in fact, you came at the exact right time to fucking save me. And you saved me with what you can do now, as a _human_ , not as an angel. Without you, things might’ve gone downhill. Or they might’ve not. Who knows, maybe Sammy would’ve saved me.”

He could practically _feel_ the frown above him.

“What I’m trying to say is: on a hunt, anything can happen. Might go good, and yeah, might go bad. It’s what we’re used to – known all our lives. All we can do is give our best and hope it all pans out. And work with what we got. Same as you. Yeah, you can’t magically mojo all my injuries away, but you can kill any bitch with a blade like it’s nobody’s business. You’re quick and precise, and a damn asset to our hunts, if you ask me. And that’s what you should be focusing on. Thinking about the shoulda woulda coulda doesn’t help in any way – think of what’s right in front of you, not what’s in the past or in the future. Ain’t nothing we can do anything about anyway. Well, not much, at least.”

Dean was proud of his little joke by the end there, but Castiel did not laugh. Did not even chuckle, that bastard. Instead, he made a contemplative noise as he listened and thought Dean’s words over again. 

“What’s right in front of me, huh?” Castiel reiterated thoughtfully, one of his thumbs tracing the line of Dean’s jaw and his lips.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and fought against the urge to kiss that teasing finger. “Not exactly what I meant, but yeah.”

“To me, that’s exactly what you meant,” Castiel said, with unprecedented lightness. “To not dwell on how badly you could’ve been hurt and how you screamed my name, but on how whole you are right now, how _alive,_ thanks to me, and how much pleasure you could still receive.”

Dean was glad that Castiel could not possibly see how flaming his cheeks must have been. “That an offer, Cas?” His voice came out much lower than he had been going for, which however seemed well enough.“‘Cause lemme tell you, it it is, I wouldn’t mind showing my savior how thankful I am. How fucking ' _alive'._ ”

“It could be,” Castiel replied, his voice dipping in kind.

Which was an unexpected turn of events, if Dean had ever experienced one, and he had actually experienced many. But, true to his own words, he should focus on what was in front of him. What had, in fact, been in front of him for a whole damn while now, he had just been too chickenshit to reach out for it. 

Not anymore, though. Instead of drawing back and laughing it all off, diminishing the heat and warmth he felt for the weirdo on top of him, he laid a hand on Castiel’s cheek, let out a sigh, and pulled him back into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been posting some more new stuff on tumblr, so feel free to check me out on avyssoseleison.tumblr.com!
> 
> For anyone who's been commenting on my fic and hoping for a reply in the last three years or so: I've read them all, but was out of the fandom, so I didn't have the strength to reply.


End file.
